Diary 43

Dear Diary,

“If you could live an eternity and not change a thing or exist for the

blink of an eye and alter everything, what would you choose?” This was

one of Ms. G’s questions after we read this poem.

Moment

Let him wish his life

For the sorrows of a stone

Never knowing the first thread

Of these

Never knowing the pain of ice

As its crystals slowly grow

Needles pressing in on the heart

To live forever

And never feel a thing

To wait a million lifetimes

Only to erode and become sand

Wish not for the stone

But for the fire

Last only moments

But change everything

Oh to be lightning

To exist for less than a moment

Yet in that moment

To expose the world to every open eye

Oh to be thunder

To clap and ring

To rumble into memories

Minds and spines

To chill the soul and shake the very ground

Pounding even the sand

Into smaller pieces

Or the mountain

Brooding, extinct

Yet gathering for one fatal moment

The power to blow the top clean off the world

Oh to last the blink of an eye and leave nothing

But nothing unmoved behind you

Vincent Guilliano

January 9, 1991.

Ms. G gave us this poem, written by someone who had gone to college

with her. Ironically, he died shortly after he wrote the poem by drowning in

the San Francisco Bay. After we read the poem, Ms. G broke it down to its

simplest form, she wanted no part to be misunderstood. She wanted this

poem to become our motto in class, and our principle in life.

She told us to be the kind of people that have enough passion to change

the world. If we let ourselves be fire, thunder, or lightning, we could alter

everything.

We all thought that Ms. Gruwell’s lesson was really powerful and all,

but us? Lightning and thunder? Not likely. The below-average sure-to-drop-

out kids? Please, ever since I can remember, we’ve been put down and

stepped on, and now all of a sudden we have the potential to change the

world? Leave it up to Ms. Gruwell to come up with some crazy shit like

that.

She tried to convince us that we were capable of anything. But it wasn’t

until Miep’s visit that it finally made sense. I remember talking about how

much we admired her for risking everything to care for Anne and her

family. She said that she had only done it because it was the “right thing to

do.”

Someone stood up and said that Miep was their hero.

“No, you’re the real heroes,” she answered. There she was, one of the

most heroic women of all time, telling us that we were heroes.

“Do not let Anne’s death be in vain,” Miep said, using her words to

bring it all together. Miep wanted us to keep Anne’s message alive, it was

up to us to remember it. Miep and Ms. Gruwell had had the same purpose

all along. They wanted us to seize the moment. Ms. Gruwell wanted us to

realize that we could change the way things were, and Miep wanted to take

Anne’s message and share it with the world.

That’s when it all became crystal clear. Anne’s message of tolerance

was to become our message.

At that moment, I became like the fire, and like the lightning and like

thunder.

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